Jr. Horatio Alger

The Beauforts in Trouble.

There was an anxious look on Rose Beaufort's pleasant face. She and her young brother were the only bread-winners in the family, and work as hard as they might it was very difficult to make both ends meet. But for one item they could have managed with strict economy, but that item—the rent—was a formidable one. They hired their humble apartment of a Mrs. Flanagan, who leased the whole floor, and agreed to pay two dollars a week. This woman was a coarse, selfish person, whose heart was as hard and unfeeling as her face and manners were unprepossessing.

One Monday morning, about two months after Ben's departure for Europe, the landlady knocked at the door of the two sisters.

"It's Mrs. Flanagan," said Rose, with a troubled look, recognizing her knock. "She has come for her rent, and I have but fifty cents toward it."

"Perhaps she will wait," suggested Adeline; but her voice was not hopeful.

"Come in!" said Rose.

"You were mighty long tellin' me to come in," grumbled the landlady, as she entered the humble room, with a hostile look.

"I am sorry if I kept you waiting," said Rose, gently.

"I thought maybe you didn't want to see me," said Mrs. Flanagan. "I won't stay long to trouble ye."

"Stay as long as you like," said Rose in a conciliatory manner.

"I didn't come for any palaver—I haven't the time. I suppose you know what I came for. You haven't forgot it's Monday mornin'?" said the landlady, in an aggressive tone.

"I didn't forget it, Mrs. Flanagan, but I am afraid I shall have to disappoint you this morning."

"Do you mane to say you haven't got my rint ready?" demanded Mrs. Flanagan, her red face becoming still more inflamed with anger.

"Indeed, Mrs. Flanagan, it isn't my fault," pleaded Rose. "I've got fifty cents toward it, and if—"

"Fifty cints! What's fifty cints?" exclaimed the landlady, angrily. "Can I pay my rint wid fifty cints? It's a shame—that it is—for you to chate a poor hard-workin' woman, and a widder besides."

"My sister never cheats anybody," said Adeline, indignantly.

"Hoity-toity! So it's you that are spakin', is it?" said Mrs. Flanagan, with her arms akimbo. "You can talk, anyway, if you can't work. All you do is to sit here all day long, while your sister is wearin' out her fingers wid the needle."

It was a cruel blow to the poor girl, who needed no reminder of what she often thought about with bitter regret and mortification. She did not retort angrily, but, turning sadly to her sister, said:

"I am afraid it's true, Rose; I am only a burden and an expense to you. I do nothing to help you."

Now it was Rose's turn to be angry.

"Are you not ashamed, Mrs. Flanagan, to twit my poor sister with what is her misfortune, not her fault?" she exclaimed, with flushed face and sparkling eyes. "She would gladly work, if she could."

"It's ashamed I'm to be, am I?" retorted Mrs. Flanagan, viciously. "I pay my bills, anyhow, and it's ashamed I'd be if I didn't. I don't want no more talk from the like of you. It's money I want."

"Here are fifty cents, and I will try to get you the rest to-day," said Rose, sadly.

"Them that wear gold rings can pay their rint, if they want to," was Mrs. Flanagan's parting shot, as she slammed the door behind her.

Rose looked at the plain gold ring on her finger. It had been her mother's ring, and for that she valued it above its intrinsic value.

"I can't part with this," she murmured, with moistened eyes. "Yet, is it right to keep it when we owe money?"

"Don't part with mother's ring, whatever you do, Rose," said her sister, hastily.

"But have we a right to keep it?" asked Rose, doubtfully.

"Yes, a thousand times, yes! That woman can wait for her money. We cannot part with this legacy of our dying mother."

"But she may put us out into the street," said Rose, shuddering.

"Is there nothing else by which we can raise money?" said Adeline, realizing their situation.

"Money is due me for two vests. As a general thing, Walton & Co. don't pay me till I hand in half a dozen, but perhaps they would make an exception in this case."

"That would be but seventy cents. It would not make up what we owe Mrs. Flanagan."

"It might induce her to wait for the rest," said Rose. "If you don't mind staying alone a little while, Addie, I will wrap them up and carry them to the store."

"Go, if you like, Rose. I always miss you, but I cannot expect to keep you here with me all the time."

Rose wrapped up the two completed vests, and putting on her hat, kissed her sister and went down stairs.

It was not far to the great store, which we have already entered with Ben.

Entering, Rose walked to the back part of the store and took the elevator to the second floor, where she found the superintendent of the work-room.

She made known her request.

"Quite out of the question, miss," said the superintendent, sharply.

He was a hard-featured man, who was a good man of business, but was not open to sentimental consideration.

"Didn't you know our rules?" he asked.

"Yes, sir; but this was a case of necessity."

"I beg your pardon, miss, it is a matter of business. When you have finished the batch we will pay you, and not till then."

"But, sir, I need the money very much."

"That is your affair, not ours. Probably you have friends and can borrow money, if you need it sooner than we are ready to pay it to you."

"I don't know where to find them," thought Rose, but she did not say this.

The superintendent had already turned away, as if to intimate that he had no more time to give her. Rose walked to the elevator slowly and sadly, and descended to the main store.

"What shall I do?" she thought. "Mrs. Flanagan will turn us out, and then poor Addie will suffer."

As she stepped out into the street the thought of the ring came back to her. It was dear to her as a cherished legacy from a mother early lost and deeply mourned, yet it had a money value which would relieve their pressing necessities for a week at least.

"I don't think mother would wish me to keep it under the circumstances," she thought. "Addie will scold me, but it appears to be the only thing that remains for me to do. Heaven knows that I don't wish to part with it."

The proper place to go would have been to a pawnbroker's shop, but Rose did not know of one. She had never had dealings with any. As she passed a jewelry store it occurred to her that perhaps they would buy it inside, and she entered.

"In what way can I serve you, miss?" asked a young man behind the counter.

"I—I wish to dispose of a ring," said Rose, hurriedly. "Can you tell me the value of it?" and she slipped the ring from her finger and offered it to the salesman.

"We don't buy second-hand jewelry," said the clerk, rudely. "We sell rings here; don't buy them."

"Then would you be kind enough to lend me two dollars on it till—till next week?" entreated Rose. "It must be worth much more than that."

"It doesn't matter how much it is worth," said the clerk. "We ain't in that line of business. You don't suppose we keep a pawnbroker's shop, do you?" and he laughed contemptuously, glancing at a tall lady who stood beside Rose and had listened attentively to the conversation, as if inviting her to enjoy the joke with him.

"Then perhaps you will direct me to a pawnbroker's," said Rose, ill at ease.

"Oh, you can go find one on the Bowery," said the clerk, carelessly. "Now, madam," turning to the tall lady, "what can I show you?"

His tone was much more respectful than the one he employed in speaking to Rose, for the lady, though far from beautiful, and no longer young, was handsomely-dressed, and had the appearance of being wealthy.

"You can't show me anything to-day, young man," said Miss Jane Wilmot, for it was she. "I wish to speak to this young lady. My dear, come out of the store with me. I wish to ask you a few questions."

The clerk arched his brows in surprise and disappointment as his hoped-for customer walked away without purchasing anything, followed by Rose.